Neon God
by Lynny M
Summary: Obsolete, old writing:::: Realistic look at the birth of the genetically engineered Mewtwo, and the events afterward, including his time with his creator Giovanni, and the downward spiral of their relationship.
1. Sacred Birth

Author's Note: Another realistic look at an 'event' from the Pokemon game series. This is supposed to be the beginning of the Mewtwo story, and I realize that it is probably completely off because I don't watch the TV series. Or the movies, for that matter. I believe that Pokemon is a _game_, and I am usually seriously disappointed whenever I watch the shows. The only movie I've seen is the first one, and I'm going to tell you right now, this is not based on it, at all. Mewtwo doesn't take control of stuff or cause storms or stuff. Okay? Does that sit with you? I'm done complaining; I've had my moment. Heehee, I'm getting all flustered. Um...I love reviews and suggestions. Enjoy.

—————— 

_And the people bowed and prayed..._

_To the neon god they made..._

_And the sign flashed out its warning..._

_-_Sound of Silence

It was not an obvious thing when life began. In fact, at first, there was nothing. Nothing but a malignant growth. It did not have a functioning mind. It could not think. It could not acknowledge. But it _did _exist. 

So it was. Twelve months in a glass cylinder, immersed in fluids, IV lines feeding it, respirator down its throat, the beeping confirmation of hundreds of computers and machines. And, of course, the distorted noise of human voices, no more important than the rest. It was late September now, almost ten months since the creature's 'conceiving'. The tank had remained in its sacred place, wires and lines leading into its pneumatic top. At the base of the cylinder, engraved in shiny metal on a plaque, was the title of this thing like a majestic piece of artwork: MEWTWO. 

Day in and day out for the longest time, it had been awake. The bodiless mind had been right underneath the surface, and it was growing, slowly. And now, late in its term, it was becoming aware of its surroundings. The sides of the tank were preoccupying it, trying to decide whether or not the chamber was part of its own body. Though the creature had no process of thought, or anyway to identify with anything, it concluded that it was, in fact, not. But if the glass _wasn't _part of itself, what was the glass doing here? Of course, the thing did not think in terms of _glass _or _itself._ It had no language whatsoever. Even thinking in _ideas _was a struggle, as it didn't have many ideas, or any way to put them together.

Then, in an instant, the mind was open, like an eye. A great and terrible pulse became very apparent. A new sense.

___—___—___—___

Today, as always, the thing was idle. A scientist at the lab gazed at the creature's mechanical womb from the other side of the small building, a cup of coffee in hand. He could just pick out the faint form of the thing, curled up in a fetal simulation. 

It was late. The birth should have been over two months ago, on the ten-month mark, but nothing had happened. Physically, it was ready, but the question was of its mind. The machine in charge of watching its mental activity had reported the same barely-existent blip for three months now, and everyone had to have been thinking that it would be a stillbirth.

Then, the computer with the task of monitoring the creature's mental activity very suddenly set off beeping, loudly. The scientist jerked his head at the screen and was amazed. Behind him, the small crowd of them went into panic and confusion "It's awake!" He called. Another followed up with: "Somebody get Giovanni on the phone!"

The alarm continued, deafening tones throbbing through people's heads as they hurriedly crowded around the tank. The murmuring hushed, all of them leaning as far forward as they could to catch a glimpse at the faint form. Seconds ticked by quickly, the alarm still beeping.

Nothing happened. 

The creature remained still in its mechanical womb, colored shades of salmon from the pink liquid. The scientists began, for one vital second, to doubt.

"...Somebody check the computer." A blonde woman said, leaning out to be as close as she could with the tank. Then the thing moved. 

They drew in breath and fell silent. The creature's hand now rested on the inside glass. And in its mind, it was discovering:

(This. Is.) 

The glass was less than it was. The thing knew the glass now. It knew its temperature and weight, and could almost see how the atoms made it up. Almost. But it knew the glass. The thing found a frail point, and as its mind concentrated, something alien and unknown forced simple pressure to the spot.

A pale white crack sprouted on the outside of the tank. Many people gasped. A scientist stepped cautiously away, then more and more, as smaller cracks began crawling across the surface of the glass in a spider-web pattern. 

"It's breaking!"

"Get away from it!" 

Then, the entire thing shattered. Glass and fluid exploded from one central point. The metal top flew up and away like a cork in a wine bottle, taking its wires with it. The scientists screamed and panicked and ran. 

And then the lead professor pointed. "Look!" He exclaimed.

The creature sat on the remaining pedestal, fluid running off of him, glass spinning on the ground. The metal top came down suddenly, sounding like a trash-can lid when it hit the tile.

Slowly, the people gathered back around. The creature opened one eye, then the other. The professor stepped forward cautiously, mentioning for some others to come help. He reached forward with one gloved hand and tentatively began peeling away a gel-like membrane from its face, and then around its mouth.

"Mew-two." He murmured. "Mew-two." 

Mewtwo, as he was called, had no way to communicate, had no idea that anything was ever meant to. He choked on the respirator and gagged it up messily.

The professor said something. The lights were too bright for this creature, and it closed its eyes in reflex, head spinning. He was mute, idiotic. Three of the doctors picked him up in a much-rehearsed fashion and carried him to an examination table. The creature was struggling to breathe, the rhythm of the respirator lost. With great care, someone fitted him with an oxygen mask and held his head back, stretching his neck out.

"There you are." The man said. More of them gathered around. Someone began pulling the IV lines out in quick, fluid motions. Mewtwo was fascinated and terrified at the sudden pain. He made strange sounds that came from deep in his throat, struggling.

The professor slipped another line out and was pushed back by invisible hands. For a moment, he was still.

"Did you see that? Did you _see _that? That's the telekinesis, already!"

Mewtwo cried out. A fluorescent lightbulb exploded on the other side of the room. 

Meanwhile, a nurse had finally found a phone, and called the appropriate person. Far away in Viridian City, someone picked up.

"Viridian Gym."

"Yes," The nurse began, "I am a technician from the laboratory your Gym Leader is working with, and I would like to speak with him, please."

"The nature of your call?"

"It is a very urgent matter concerning—"

"Please hold while you are transferred." The secretary said quickly. There was a muffled click sting the sound of dead air.

It soon became apparent that Mewtwo could not control his mental ability, and he was injected with a tranquilizer. Within seconds he found his newly-discovered abilities failing him. Without his body to orient himself, the sense that was his mind became difficult to target. He became trapped, and helpless.

Or, not quite. As he lay there, fading away, he discovered that he could feel the alien substance flowing through him. And, being confined to his own body, he tried to concentrate on what it might be. This was an extraordinary idea seeing as he had very little notion as to what might be his body in the first place, and soon, he had captured the entirety of what was on the inside.

Veins, arteries, vessels, all of them throbbing with fluid. He could envision and feel each of them, and he also knew the alien thing that was debilitating his body. And if he concentrated hard enough, he found that he could reverse this estrange fluid, push it back through the blood, take it out of the nerves, like a video on rewind, like time itself was inverting, his heartbeat slowing, temperature falling, until the poison seeped out of the already healing sting between its shoulder blades.

As his psyche returned, anger welled up in him; it was an irrational feeling he didn't understand but it _did _feel right, and as a doctor returned with a straightjacket, Mewtwo flung himself off the examination table. He collapsed partially but was held up by the invisible force of his extrasensory power. He shoved away the hands that shot out to grab him and yet he did not so much as flinch, their voices panicking suddenly, teasing him with the game that was speech, something grabbing his feet, his feet which were no longer touching the floor—

"Look! Look at him!" The professor cried. The beast was levitating. He hung at three feet off the ground, his head twisted up. His eyes were dilated and glossy.

"We've got to get him under control!"

"_Here_!" 

Another dart was forced crudely into its thigh. Mewtwo made a hoarse, angry noise. He halted the syringe from emptying and jerked the needle out as roughly as it had gone in with his mind's invisible hand, a skill that he had only begun to understand. Anger welled up in him. His mind throbbed. The control was slipping away, slipping away—

Something ebbed through the room. An alarm went off somewhere in the background but was ignored completely. It ebbed again, hundreds of times stronger. Half of the lights popped and exploded, sending heated shards raining down upon then—they screamed and hit the floor or ran, covering their heads with their hands. Mewtwo was thinking (Good! Good!) And he was thinking, (feels good to see them like this! Feels good! I _hate _them!)

Hate. Hate, a strong feeling, terrible and bittersweet. But it was not a wrong feeling. His body felt hot. Sweat and the embryonic fluids ran from under his arms and the inside of his thighs. Fever resulted from his pounding heart. It ebbed _again, _and the entire building shook.

Then, fission. A pure and ultimate fission.

A horrifying power burst forth from Mewtwo's body. As he watched, the world beyond his glowing frame became dark like developing film exposed to light. He watched a female's face melt away, skin, then blood, then bone. All of them disintegrated like this. The entire laboratory was torn apart. The shrapnel spun around him, all of it neatly controlled by something that was not his own. The pieces whirled about, becoming smaller as the power continued to flow in steady rhythm. Then, when everything was nothing but a fine dust, it blew out to the surrounding ocean, quietly, silently. 

Mewtwo remained still for several seconds. He had been completely involuntary, and now, as feeling returned, he was overwhelmed. There was nothing anymore. His psyche was drained, and there was nothing anymore.

He dropped, and was unconscious before he hit the ground.

——————— 

Much later the next day, Mewtwo had crouched himself on the grassy lawn of his island. He rocked back and forth slightly, his head bobbing in his own special way of trying to work things out in his mind. The world he had been delivered in was large and it did not explain itself. Learning to move had been enough of a struggle, which had lasted for hours and he _still _had not mastered it. He did not have any way to transmit thoughts or feelings. He could not say that the wind was cold, or that the water was wet, or that he liked the grass better than the mud. He did not have a name for himself. Not yet.

But he was figuring it out, slowly. 

His memory was incredible by any standard. It was better than photographic—he could experience things again and again. He played the sound the people's voices. They had deeper meaning, and he could feel that. He heard:

(Mew-two)

and

(Get away from it!)

(Look! Look!)

Decoding them was difficult. He had to concentrate very hard, and let his other sense, the truly psychic part of him, take over. The first phrase had no meaning for him, it seemed. One of his first rational acts was to move on to the next—

Unconsciously Mewtwo made a strangled sound. His body jerked insensibly as he rocked inside his mind. He would come to understand it. He would. And fortunately for him, he would not be forced to live another day on his own.

————————— 

Author's Rant: Hmm...I liked that. This is going to be continued, of course. See you next chapter, when Mewtwo is lifted out of his mental cage by a very peculiar man...


	2. Enter Giovanni

Neon God

Author's Rant: *Sigh* I am suffering from a very bad bout of writer's block. That's why this took three weeks, and that's why its not as good as it could be. But I'm getting tired of it. I wanna move on, dangit! Oh—thanks for the reviews. They really make my day. Really.

————— 

_"That man! That man! That man! That man! That man! That man! That man! You know...that man?_ "

_—Man in the Mirror _

Giovanni wanted to talk to Mewtwo. 

He thought that the created creature must have needed some sort of guidance. _Something _would have been better than nothing. Nothing was what was happening. Mewtwo was stupid, retarded, but he thought he knew why. Human interaction must have been minimal. That meant that there was no way for it to communicate. The Rocket boss considered that it could have been slow only because it was a mental infant. Human babies only matured , as far as he knew, when allowed to examine the adults around it. So this was what Mewtwo needed.

Giovanni watched the figure sleeping in the dim light of the warehouse. Such a costly endeavor it had been. Now, after these long days of hope and dread, he would discover whether the Pocket Monster was worth it. At times he feared another situation that would destroy the complex like the laboratory. But he would not settle for another round of tranquilizers to be brought in. Today, he would talk to the creature. He had to discover it himself; would Mewtwo be able to learn? Would it be a slow or quick process? With Team Rocket's funds dwindling to near nothing, so much counted on this one creature

It had taken less than a day to bring the creature from its island to this Viridian complex. The night after Mewtwo was born, a Rocket sharpshooter left for the ocean with a friend pilot and fired a dose of heavy neuroleptic into its back. It spent most of its time comatose. During those days of waiting, Giovanni nearly despaired in Mewtwo. It showed no signs of intelligence or understanding, or of unusual mental ability. It seemed, for a while, to be no more than a retard Pokemon—and not even a real one, at that. 

He stepped forward from the entrance of the warehouse doors and began to walk toward the middle of the room. When he reached the cot, he stooped down and folded his hands, like a father lamenting over his son. The thing had its head set in a cold iron helmet to keep its psyche in check. Even so, it turned slowly toward him, struggling to move. The sterile sheets became tangled around its legs.

Giovanni reached forward and lifted the helmet from its head. Mewtwo blinked up at nothing, now released. His eyes were moist and reddened, and saliva ran down his chin and neck. The white fur was matted and sticky. The two of them locked eyes. Giovanni chose his words carefully.

"You are Mewtwo." He said. Mewtwo's line of sight shifted and then returned to his.

"I am Giovanni."

Mewtwo unconsciously swallowed. There was ensuing silence. The iron helmet came down over the beast's head. It locked into place, and Giovanni stood and left.

Mewtwo was quiet. The helmet prevented him from exploring the world outside of his body. But—there was something more now. The event was fresh in his mind, and he knew, like last time, that there was meaning somewhere. He could feel it. And as an hour slipped by, and then another, he began to think that he had something. When it came to him, screaming up through the cage of his mind, it translated: He was. That's what. He was, and he was Mewtwo. He knew who he was. 

He blinked. Parts of him still didn't work right after the island setting had left him. Feeling his tongue in his mouth—a funny organ, it was—he tried to speak. He knew from experience that he could make sounds like the others, just not in the same way. And if he could do that, then it make perfect sense that he could replicate what...

(Ghee-o-vah-nee)

(Giovanni)

(him)

—what Giovanni had said. 

—————— 

When Giovanni returned later that same day, Mewtwo's world was much brighter. He was more responsive, the Rocket boss noted, as he helped him sit up. The helmet came off again as Mewtwo was guided to the floor, having to lean against the foot of the cot for balance. He looked bewildered and confused, and his head bobbed unsteadily as he looked about, as if it were too heavy for his neck.

"Hello, Mewtwo," Giovanni said, smiling somewhat as he settled himself in front of him. "Do you remember me? Here. Have a look at these." He pressed his hand into Mewtwo's palm, leaving behind three marbles, the kind you played with. Mewtwo marveled at them, watching them roll in his pallid paw. His coordination was not the best, however, and in an instant they spilled from his grasp onto the floor. His expression became slightly flustered as he watched them wheel away. Giovanni watched, bemused, as they traveled toward his shoes.

They slowed suddenly. Then, altogether, they stopped not two feet from where they had been dropped, and began to roll backwards. Mewtwo scooped them up with the sure movement of a young child. Giovanni paused and folded his hands beneath his jaw.

"That's very interesting." He said. "These...these are marbles, Mewtwo." He held one up for demonstration. Not that marbles were very key to Mewtwo's knowledge.

Mewtwo seemed to be paying attention. He was—he wanted to catch Giovanni's words. The more he understood, the better he would be. Right now, language took time to decipher, but he wanted to become better at it. There was the promise of substantial in each one of the other's words, and the thought of understanding excited him. 

He had 'hello' some minutes after Giovanni had uttered it. Hello was a greeting. And Giovanni had said _hello mewtwo_, and Mewtwo was Himself. It came together quickly. 

The magical thing was that Giovanni didn't have to know how to teach in order for Mewtwo to learn. He only had to speak and demonstrate, and Mewtwo would pick it up, however slowly. Actaully, the Rocket boss figured that his learning was very, very fast compared to what a human child could manage. 

When he had left, he had said goodbye. And afterward, Mewtwo lay out on his hospital-smelling cot, no longer shackled. He ran his limited thoughts through is mind, over and over again. The marbles had been left with him, and he made them float about above him (it hurt when they accidently dropped, no doubt) like a baby's mobile. Giovanni had been very...._something_. There was emotion there that was tangible. Later he would call it surprised, pleased, fascinated. But not for a while.

Soon he became tired and the _marbles _were dropped. He curled up, not knowing what to await. Sleep would overcome him eventually.

Giovanni came every day afterward. 


	3. Thoughts

Neon God

Author's Rant: I'll tell you right now: this is crap. I'm very sorry that it had to be crap. I understand that producing crap is a direct slap to the reader's face and thus a very bad insult. My severe apologies. But this is what I get for turning in crap last time; another chapter that is poorly set up. My main problem, I think, is just the story-line of this particular piece. I ended last time poorly, and had little direction to work with. I did not get around to saying all that I wanted to say. But, there is nothing to do but keep writing. If you read this...thank you. I am sorry to insult you so badly.

———— 

!

(Ouh!)

The crate dropped and hit the cement floor. It spilled three heavy books. Mewtwo made an aggravated noise.

"Relax." Giovanni provided, almost apathetically. He was reading something of his own. Mewtwo, who was sitting on his hospital cot, slipped the dictionaries back in their place and closed his eyes. The crate lifted again by some unseen force, and hovered several feet above his head. Something else, then. His eyes roved the warehouse. The marbles had collected underneath his bed. They instantly spun and clacked together.

Mewtwo knew he had been mentally weak. The first time he tried to move something— 

(_–heavy!–)_

(!god look at what you're doing!)

_The strain—it was all over me, as much physical as it was mental—_

(Try! I knew it! I knew it!)

_Felt nice._

_Heavy._

—resulted in nausea and something of a headache, but Giovanni pressed the matter and the good meaning of practice engraved itself in the Pokemon's mind. Since then, Mewtwo had never let the opportunity to improve himself slip by. It was a quality that Giovanni admired, secretly. Mewtwo knew this; he didn't know how. 

Reading was, when you got right down to it, just speaking. Once you knew how to decode the text, it was just like listening. And with the ability to read came studying. Giovanni brought him books. Encyclopedias were among his favorites. And there were the textbooks. He had studied the weather in a textbook, although it all came down to a visit outside to _really _understand what it was all about. Mewtwo cherished the outside world. It was frighteningly vast and wonderfully impossible. Giovanni told him that soon, if he put his mind to it, he could see the entire world over. After a good long thought Mewtwo came to the conclusion that if he really wanted to, he could see right through walls. He was working on it. 

Out of boredom, he slipped an encyclopedia from the high-up crate. He had already been through half of this one, and he figured he'd have to ask Giovanni to bring more, wherever it was they came from. Maybe a library. Logic told him that Team Rocket might have their own collection. He had seen private libraries in books before.

Page two-hundred-fifty-three. North Korea's labor and employment stats.

He read on. 

His mind began to wander.

Giovanni. Their relationship was an odd thing,. Slowly, it was becoming less of a dependancy. Mewtwo still needed him, but soon he would not. What then? Would there be room for a friendship, supposing it would be possible at all? If Giovanni's talk about rulership was true—

(_Like kings. People will tremble under you, Mewtwo. Even now. But think about a year from now, when you've been living among us for so long. Your power will be unstoppable. There will be no choice for anything but Team Rocket. You. Me. You'll live so good, Mewtwo_—)

Then they would be together for a very long time. Living well. _Very _well.

Soon enough, Giovanni promised, Mewtwo could live among the Rockets themselves. He'd live a life on high; A bedroom suite as big as he wanted. Silk sheets and satin pillows. A good life.

A full life.

All providing he worked for Team Rocket. And that was all right. Where _else _would he go? He had no intention of ever not staying with Giovanni's people. It was where he belonged, besides.

The crate was not enough anymore. Even held up to the ceiling, it didn't provide him with enough work. The marbles continued to spin and clack in various patterns, but they required so little concentration that it was no distraction at all. And the need to exercise, to really strain, was dominating. He took in breath and lay back on his hospital cot.

The sheets were cold and comforting. Relaxing himself, he flexed his mind and lifted his hospital cot, just to see if he could. It was heavy. Breathing deep, he forced it and himself into the air. 

It was not _very _hard.

He stopped and remained silent at a satisfactory height. 

It was very soothing. Energy flowed from him. He could _feel _it. As much physical as was mental. His sinews were taught. His brain hummed with psyche.

Giovanni watched Mewtwo's act with an amused sort of curiosity. He had improved so much. In twenty days he had accomplished what usually takes half a lifetime. He could read, write (no need to, however), speak fluently and understood who he was, and who Giovanni was.

Giovanni now spent his days with Mewtwo, from morning to night. In the morning, he brought breakfast, straight from the chef. And James liked to revel in the fact that he got to cook for Mewtwo, despite not knowing the first thing about the pokemon, so it was never a problem. He'd often have it ready before the boss was even half-awake, bright and smiling with some kind of energy that Giovanni could no longer achieve. And him and Mewtwo would eat together, Mewtwo properly working with fork and knife like his human counterpart, and there would be discussions about this and that and the other thing. Often, Mewtwo had sprouted questions from his late-night studying that needed to be answered. 

And then Mewtwo would practice his telekinetic power. He was new at it, but getting better every day, lifting objects until he became tired and he'd have to stop and rest. The first time, he gained a terrible headache, which, as hard as he tried not to, Giovanni had found funny. 

As he watched Mewtwo's hovering bedframe, wondering what, precisely, he was doing up there, he was pleasantly reminded that, this time, there was no way he could lose. Payback, maybe.

Perhaps Mewtwo would like to go out tonight.

______

Later:

A fire had manifested itself in his imagination, brought on voluntarily by description earlier gathered. It glowed off to one side. Mewtwo read intensively from a Pocket Monster handbook. It was collegiate, but he could understand the words easily. His translation skills were unmatched. And he enjoyed reading, found it to be useful and entertaining at the same time. 

The handbook focused on rare and legendary pokemon. There were entries on Dragonair, Mr. Mime, and Aerodactyl (extinct but still available!). The Legendaries, too—Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres had a very large section and there were several elaborate drawings of what they might have looked like. However, at this moment, he was stuck in one rather deep chapter. Paragraphs lined the pages in tiny white text. The background was black. One page contained only a picture, but the picture was just as important. It was an old stone tablet, covered with a dead language, and in the center was an odd embossment of a cat-like creature, perhaps dancing. The caption at the bottom read, "_Artwork believed to depict the creature Mew._" 

"What are you reading?" The mental flame disappeared. Giovanni leaned over Mewtwo's shoulder and then slipped the book from him.

"Oh, yes. Mew."

Mewtwo nodded. "You...you've talked about Mew before. A little bit." He said, smiling slightly. There was a shaking uncertainty to almost everything he did. 

"...Yes." There was a moment of silence as the page was reviewed. "...Mew...its extinct now."

"I know." Mewtwo was almost smug sounding. He took his book back. Giovanni relaxed into thought. He felt strangely comfortable. A fire burned in a hearth.

_What?_

The flames popped and sparked. Hot. Soot. Where on earth were these fugitive thoughts coming from? He looked again at Mewtwo and made an uneducated guess. 

"You know what you need?" He said suddenly. "I think you need to meet another pokemon."

Mewtwo did not look up from his reading.

————— 

See you next chapter. I swear it will be better. Also, the iron helmet from last chapter was a reference to the armor he had on in the movie, or whatever.


	4. An Observance

Neon God

Author's Rant: Well...here I am. And there you are. And here this lonely, no-point chapter is. I'm sorry this took so long. You wouldn't believe the number of things that I wrote and deleted, and finally I realized that none of us are going to live forever so I had to get something down. This chapter, while short, is pretty much nothing but fluff. It absolutely does not do anything to the plot. But! Next chapter will! I just wasn't ready for the maltreatment issues, yet. Sorry, sorry.

And thanks.

— — — — — —

The corridor was a busy place, even though its stock was sparse. Cages clattered open and closed as Rocket workers went about their rounds. Animals growled and whined and did their alien, animal things. Giovanni, with Persian on his shoulders, and Mewtwo stepped through the hallway gingerly, among a bombardment of conversing voices.

"—was going to tell _you_—"

"—Caught a seven and a five but nothing else, and we left—"

"I'm too goddamn cheap to get—"

"Call the police, then!"

A spatter of laughter.

Mewtwo looked the part of an Egyptian god, a slim cat's head on a hybrid body, hips rounded and large like a cat's, a human torso that was taught and emaciated. His feet were huge things with pads on the soles, and because of their size, he walked on his toes like a house cat would. His tail was disproportionately thick, and long as his own height of six feet. It had a rich purple-grey fur that grew to his belly, and the rest of him was thinly covered in dusty white pelt. His facial expressions were wrongly human-like.

So he was not surprised nor bothered when he caught a Rocket looking at him curiously. He ignored it, following Giovanni's lead. He was here in the storage wing to study more pokemon, and the Rocket boss was somewhat eager to show him something.

There was a very unhappy yowl for the far end of the hall, and a sudden clamor of metal -on-metal and people's voices. Giovanni disregarded it completely and pulled Mewtwo aside to an important-looking door. It was marked 'EVOLUTION CELL' and had a clipboard stuck magnetically to it. The clipboard held some sort of roster. Giovanni shouldered the door open, Persian meowing in discomfort. It clawed gently at his back. Mewtwo wondered if his jackets were constantly ruined, and then wondered if he could afford it. Rocket was in the red.

Mewtwo stepped inside.

It was a cramped, cold room that smelled vaguely like soap; aseptic and barren. In the center of the tiled floor lay out a behemoth creature. It was—Mewtwo recognized it from his studies—a Nidorina. Or at least, it resembled one.

It looked very ill. The back legs were swollen at the hips and they were splayed out unnaturally, leaving the creature's ivory belly shamefully exposed. The upper body looked like it had started to shift and didn't finish. What had been the front legs looked out of proportion and slimed, clawed fingers groped at nothing in the air. With a strange, near-repulsive feeling he realized that the apple-sized swellings on its front were breasts, and they bled and looked terribly painful. A thick horn, curving like a rhinoceros's, was pushing out from the center of its reptilian face.

Giovanni stood beside him. It was very quiet inside the cell, stark contrast to the outside hallway. The Nidorina's breathing was slow and labored. It did not notice them, or if it did, it was busy thinking of other things.

"What's wrong with it?" Mewtwo said suddenly, softly. At the sound of his voice, the creature twisted its head awkwardly at them, glassy eyes staring sickly.

"She's evolving." Giovanni answered shortly. Mewtwo nodded; he knew well of evolution. It was a process that might have been more correctly labeled metamorphosis—most cases involved a painful interval of fast growth and bodily change. It was triggered by several things—bodily readiness and age being the most common..

"I thought so." There was more quiet. Giovanni drew in breath and began:

"She'll be finished in three or four days. This is the peak of her change. A Nidoqueen will be the finished product." Giovanni opened the heavy door again and tossed his cat to someone. "Get this thing out of here," He said bluntly, and returned.

"Now then. See that?" He pointed to a milky crystal on the floor. Mewtwo shook his head, silent. "That is a moon stone, mined directly from Mt. Moon. Moon stones, like other elemental stones, give off high doses of radiation. Not the kind that'll kill you. Something stranger than that. Certain pokemon evolve only when exposed to this radiation. The Nidoran are some of the few that react to moon stones."

"This is natural?"

"To most extents. It's a rarer phenomenon with wild pokemon."

"Oh."

They watched the thing lay in its agony for a few quiet moments. Then, Giovanni ushered him away, quickly, without much else to say.

——————

Well...that was short-lived. It wasn't bad though, I don't think. I appreciate your reading. Next chapter, I swear upon pain of death, the abuse will start, and I'll be able to write more convincingly. Thank you!


	5. Disobedient Child

Neon God

Author's Rant: Hello, there, dear reader! I haven't the slightest idea, why my usual cloud of depression has been lifted, but it has, and I feel great! I mean, I feel _ok_. This chapter, is, I'd like to point out, VERY poorly put together! Yay! You'll be encountering:

TMs

A pointless doctor visit

A pointless battle involving an almost-naked Hitmonchan

A badly placed, badly done spat between two loving characters, that is badly bad.

AND more whining from me!

I hope this isn't as embarrassing as I think it is...

————

Technical Machines involved, not including extra training, needles and a head-set visor. The intravenous line delivered certain chemicals, and the visor provided searing mental images. It was a good fix for the more animal minded.

A routine, of just a few days, had started for the express purpose of teaching Mewtwo the moves used in organized fights—battles, they called it—and he had three moves under his belt; Hypnosis, the first, Reflect, the second, and Psychic, learned just yesterday.

Giovanni, who had been rather stolid lately, removed another TM from its packaging. Mewtwo watched without expression. He learned through devices called Technical Machines, TMs for short, and while most pokemon required bothersome training sessions after receiving the information, Mewtwo had a quick-to-learn mind, and he understood.

The TM's lengthy needle was held out for him, and Mewtwo took it gingerly. He positioned it underneath his left wrist, and guided it flawlessly into the overused vein. There was no pain—he had learned to stop it beforehand. Letting the line come out between his palm, Mewtwo slipped on the visor—a very thin instrument—and bowed his head.

The TM was activated, and Giovanni watched. He had little notion as to how they worked, but they usually did work, and with Mewtwo, they worked exceptionally well. His creature was slouched now, concentrating on whatever he was being told.

The machine, represented by a small black box, blipped assertively when it was done. Mewtwo removed the line and visor automatically. The arena's judging desk had collected a messy sunburst of coagulating blood from the needles, and that was going to be somebody else's job to clean up.

"The command name is Psybeam," Mewtwo reported without further prompting. Giovanni looked up from the table, startled into it. "It is preformed by compressing raw and extrasensory matter and then releasing it in the form of a highly dense beam of psychic energy, aimed at the opponent."

"And you...uh, think you could do that without practice?" Giovanni asked absently. Mewtwo nodded, alert. "Good, then. Good. I have an anointment for you."

Very suddenly, the work was over. Mewtwo turned and followed Giovanni, who did not stop to discard the TM. They left out into the complex's mass of wings and halls, and continued down a corridor with the usual quietness of non-productive nighttime. The employees were had made themselves scarce.

"I'm going to have your blood drawn," Giovanni brought up suddenly. "And get you a quick physical. There's a doctor in the F wing."

Mewtwo knew of the doctor, vaguely.

"What for?"

"This and that. I'm..." They brushed past a last-minute Rocket worker. "...I'm battling you against a trainer tonight. I think you'll do very well. Besides—there's a major elemental advantage..." A corner was turned. Mewtwo looked as if he were about to say something and paused.

"You're putting me up against a trainer?"

"_Shit_!" Somebody dropped something in a nearby hallway, and it made a very loud noise.

"I don't understand..."

"What's so difficult about it?" Giovanni asked flatly. Mewtwo concentrated on the floor.

"It would be humiliating. And it's not necessary."

Giovanni was quiet. They stopped in front of a door marked VETERINARY 3.

"You're battling." He said finally. A Rocket specialist, smelling of latex gloves, opened the door. They stepped inside.

The physical was a wordless procedure.

——————————

Afterwards, perhaps not an hour later, Mewtwo was waiting alone in a holding cell, in the very arena where Earth-badge battles were fought—for the few who made it that far; Giovanni was not an easy man to get to. The fight between him and whoever's pokemon must have been mere seconds away, and he was distraught.

Giovanni's orders had been frank: Use Psybeam, and if that doesn't work out for you, use something you know and don't fuck around.

So he was nervous, terribly so, for more reasons than one. His only fighting had been done with controls and with no master to lead them. Nothing at stake. Yes, he was going to have an elemental

(does that really mean anything)

advantage, Giovanni said. That probably meant he was going up against fighting type, if you were going to call it on elemental reasons. But, O, it was going to be so degrading. Only pocket monsters battle pocket monsters. The battle, with Giovanni's eyes watching his every move, and knowing very well the relationship they had was like one with the humans—this fight, being forced to fight like roosters or dogs were, it just wasn't right. It was so damming. So stupid, pointless.

"_Show me what you have, you ol' man! _You ol' bitch!"

A voice, female, out of nowhere.

No. Out of the arena.

The holding cell opened fluidly. The battle was beginning. He stood slowly and stepped out onto the battle floor. It was vast, with a high ceiling and bright-white light. Windows to either side showing only dark nighttime. Two viewing stands—one to his back—Giovanni's—and one across the field, his opponent trainer's. The field was cement, and cleanly sectioned with white, painted lines.

"And what _the _fuck is _that_?" The same voice, coming from an athletic blonde girl on the opposite trainer's grounds. Her hair was almost platinum blonde, tied back loosely, and she wore a variety of spandex items. She looked to be young, perhaps in her late teens. Mewtwo did not bother figuring her age.

"That's my business, kid." Giovanni, now. The girl apparently knew him already. She could have been a trainer in the Gym.

"Doesn't matter. Let's go!"

"Suit yourself."

She threw a pokeball down so hard it broke in half, but not before releasing a creature Mewtwo recognized as a Hitmonchan.

It was female, and strikingly beautiful. The body was so toned it looked carved from marble. The legs were so very shapely, they were almost horsey. Her shoulders were covered by the collar armor, naturally, but her arms were thick with muscle, slightly long, and bore deadly hands. Her trainer had dressed her in rather reveling clothing, probably in order to show off: A tight-fitting pair of bikini briefs, with room for the tail, and a matching sports-bra.

Mewtwo found himself being attacked immediately. The Hitmonchan charged him, leapt forward, and out of pure instinct he created a barrier and stopped a punch that would have put him out. Panicking, he moved away. She moved with him. Another punch, another barrier. Mewtwo gasped and ducked and avoided another. Blindly, he tried to remember what he was supposed to do, Psybeam, yes, but how? He couldn't concentrate.

An aggravated punch cracked into a mental block , and in frustration he threw her across the room. That was it. His mental hands did the work with a second thought. She skidded as he stood.

Mewtwo steadied himself and tried to envision what he needed to do. Psychic moves learned by TM were never easy to dissect, and this was especially complicated. Motioning his hands, breathing deeply, steadily, he guessed at forming the matter. He guessed until he felt an enormous shock, somewhere deep inside him, and he pointed at the Hitmonchan, who was running toward him, and in an instant there was something hot and terrible flowing from the immense being that was his psychic mind.

(tunnel vision: focus it)

It hit her and she screamed. She was thrown back against the wall. The energy stopped out of Mewtwo's unpreparedness, but it did not matter. The Hitmonchan hit the ground and lay still for several seconds, and then covered her head with her arms, making a tortured sound..

"What was _that_? No way! Is that thing—"

"Shut up for a sec, would you?"

Rocket medics came suddenly to retrieve Hitmonchan's traumatized body. Mewtwo watched, feeling awkward.

"Was that a psychic move? G'vanni! If that was a psychic move—"

"Send out your next fighter."

The opposing trainer shut up and did so, not being so confident as to break the ball this time. His opponent was a Kabutops, a lanky, alien-looking creature, with scythes for hands, not unlike the pocket-monster Scyther.

"Again!" Giovanni commanded, before all else. Mewtwo, in a funny kind of urgency, sent the enemy into white hot agony, being more confident this time. He centered on the mind's foundations and tore away at them. It was kind of fun, albeit strange.

Psybeam did not send the Kabutops down like it had Hitmonchan, but it hurt it, and bad enough that in a wonderful moment of quick thinking Mewtwo preformed the move Psychic. Psychic was an act of extrasensory influence that aimed to send the target in intense mental and physical pain, unknowingly self-inflicted. And it worked like a charm on Kabutops, who crumpled in defeat.

The girl cursed gently. She turned and turned again.

"No. No more. That's a psychic move you're pulling on me, and Teresa'll be out for days now. I can't afford to pay for all four medical jobs."

"You are _far _from poor, you know that."

They argued non-committingly. Mewtwo was anxious to leave. In the end, the girl forfeited, but Giovanni seemed to be a good sport about it.

At his command, Mewtwo turned and walked slowly back into the complex's halls; he was feeling somewhat drained. Passing workers did their best to ignore him.

——————————

He was mentally and physically tired when he arrived, so he did not do anything but sit on the edge of his hospital cot, waiting, because he was fairly certain that Giovanni would be by.

He was right about that—not twenty minutes after he had settled in, the Rocket Boss did come in.

"You fucking little pup," Giovanni announced, standing over Mewtwo and gazing down, an implacable expression on his face.

"I don't—"

"You stupid shit," He sounded amused now. He smiled.

Silence.

"_What_?" The sound was very hollow.

"You should know what."

Mewtwo stuttered gently. "The battle—"

"You thought it would be animal? _Humiliating_?" Sarcasm, now. "Don't you get it? You _are _animal, Mewtwo! Did that ever occur to you!"

If he hadn't been so shocked, the pokemon might have pointed out then and there the many times Giovanni had told him that he was _better_ than the common creature. But he did not.

"And about not _wanting _to battle, I'd like to point out that you're in no position to decide."

Mewtwo stood. He felt lightheaded. Giovanni looked downright pissed. He glared.

"You know what this is?" He said sourly, slipping something out of his dress jacket. Mewtwo looked at the object, looked back at Giovanni.

"It's a pokeball."

"Wrong. It's a Masterball."

That meant nothing to Mewtwo.

"Do you know how much this thing fucking cost? A lot. And they're not easy to get."

Giovanni seemed to wait for a response. He didn't get one.

"They're supposed to be fool-proof devices. And I have no doubt that you could tear this thing apart from the inside, but I'd like to point out that you, you and all the other little shitters...you're mine. Part of my team. I want you to understand that."

Mewtwo pleaded with his eyes, but got nowhere.

"I'm sorry to have misled you, then. Want to see if this thing works?" Giovanni slipped the button and threw it. Mewtwo started. He _knew _that he had the ability to do more than just avoid this coming doom—avoid it and

(bloody his face; good, good)

convince Giovanni that he wasn't so feeble-minded.

But he did not.

It was terrible. There was an instant where he weighed nothing—not a thing—he felt himself twist and collapse, and it was all a whirl of unshakable motion. And then, there was nothing. Blackness. Deadness.

_He had no body_.

He screamed, but there was no sound. No sight. He felt nothing. He heard only silence, and, later, the pounding of his heart, throbbing in his mind. But he had no heart. He did not breathe, he couldn't.

It was minutes, hours, whatever, that he finally calmed himself. He had researched these devices, he reminded himself. Deactivate the goddamn thing.

He didn't bother. Mewtwo exploded outwardly from the very essence of his mind and fell outward, panting, onto the cement floor of his warehouse. Giovanni made an amused noise, and shut up suddenly.

"...That's what I thought." He said. The pokemon forced himself up onto legs that refused to work.

"I thought my life would amount to more than this, Giovanni..."

"No?" Giovanni stepped closer. Mewtwo's mind burned with a thousand terrible feelings.

"No. I don't know what I've done, but—"

Giovanni reached out and struck him. It was not so hard as to be violent, just a little tap upside the jaw. But the moment itself frighted Mewtwo immensely. He stared with a shattered mind behind his eyes, and Giovanni, in the very least of his reflections, thought he would have been demolished.

Mewtwo broke. Something deep within his fugitive thoughts cracked.

Blankly, he said:

"That will never happen again."

Giovanni stood there, with his jaw clenched in his own special way.

"I'm sure it won't." He said, nodding oddly. He fell silent, and left.

Mewtwo stayed in his place. Something had gone terribly wrong.

——————–———

Sorry, sorry. I think I need someone to coach me on a little idea called PUTTING THE PLOT TOGETHER CONVINCINGLY. Anyway, to my readers:

Did you take time out of your busy schedule to read this? If so, then, next morning, when you wake, I hope that you are happily refreshed, joyously greeted by songbirds who sit outside your window and sing, feel absolutely fantastic, and have a great day! Thanks! bye! I lurve you! I really do! --waves spasmodically--


	6. Fission

Neon God  
  
Author's Rant: This entire story is a train-wreck. And it started out so well... But anyway, this chapter was done a week ago. My computer is broken. I have to use a go-between to upload anything. So, sorry for da wait.  
  
_Can't seem to face up to the facts...  
I've been so nervous, can't relax...  
Can't sleep...bed's on fire...  
Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire..._  
–Psycho Killer (The Talking Heads, Stop Making Sense)  
  
There had never been such anger, ever, and never so strongly. Mewtwo's humiliation was complete and terrible.  
So something had gone wrong. So. What was going to come of this? The realization that he owned no life had hit him full-force, and he was enraged.  
He had been so stunned after that last encounter with Giovanni, who had turned so bitter, that he had not moved for a very long while. He just stood there, dumbly, the anger welling up in the very core of him, and now, as he lay sprawled on his hospital cot, sniveling tears of hate staining his face, he decided that he'd have to do something, anything, about his situation.  
Another thing...the Rockets were afraid of him. They knew something had happened; he could sense it. There was some sort of vague unease between them. But they had no reason to be worried. He would not harm them, not a hair on their heads, he thought, using a favorite phrase. The Rockets were not so evil. Only Giovanni...  
How arrogant! The words choked in his throat and came out as a small, dead sound. How arrogant could that silk-ass son of a bitch be? Mewtwo was a God, but Giovanni still had the nerve, the sick state of mind, to reach out and slap him—slap him!—like a parent dictating a child! He stifled a sob and turned partially.  
It would be so easy to play revenge with Giovanni. He could preform the simplest tricks without even moving: Little things, like upsetting glasses, hiding things. He could terrorize the old man—paralyze him, trip him up. Purposely make him forgetful, turn him into Rocket's village idiot. Yes, that would be grand. But was it the best he could do?  
His life was not Giovanni's. It couldn't be that way. There had to be something more for him. If there was anything he wanted, it was Giovanni himself.  
(bring him out here)  
Would it be worth it? He could kill that enemy if he really wanted to!  
Did he?  
He didn't know. Giovanni was—  
(off having dinner with somebody...some people...)  
busy at the moment. Mewtwo had never tried to have full access to his instructor, not on a mental scale. He considered it to be dirty, like a child watching his parents screw. Just wasn't a right thing.  
But he was so bitter!  
He drew in a long, shaky breath, looked up at the ceiling and opened his mind. Perhaps he could tell Giovanni a thing or two.  
  
———————   
  
Mewtwo's psyche was only so correct. That night, Giovanni had been doing nothing more than socializing with the Admins of the complex. There was food, but Giovanni under few circumstances would have called it dinner. And even now, as late as it was, few Admins were still in the room with him.   
He was sitting back in a somewhat comfortable chair at a table that had been left in a very littered state. The room smelled like cigarette smoke, which he was not bothered by. A conscientious Rocket was stepping through the carnage of late-night Admin-celebration and picking up this and that, things that he deemed too dangerous to keep on the floor.  
Wake up, you ass.  
Giovanni paused.  
Whore.  
He sat up and blinked. I hate you, something said. I hate you because—  
Glass _tinked _from behind him. He shifted, hesitated, then stood and walked out of the break room. The Rocket uttered something of a goodbye.  
Down a hallway, now. Come back here. See what I want.  
Giovanni stopped and looked over his shoulder. He waited as if he was listening for some far-off noise.  
Get over here, you stupid shit.  
There. Was that momentary thought? It was almost too rude.  
Get over here!  
Mewtwo. He had forgotten about the incident entirely.  
Come! Come see me!  
The voice was sourly critical now. Giovanni sighed indecisively. Mewtwo wanted to see him, and he knew that it wouldn't be pleasant. The pokemon had a cause now, and Giovanni, as much as he wanted to, couldn't deny that the clone was smart enough to make his own conclusions about things.  
What happened to the brash thing he had been three hours ago? Hanging out with real people must have brought him down.   
_You hit him. You hit the damn little whelp. Nice going. Great._  
He watched the carpeting. Mewtwo was quiet.  
_Have I ever stopped to wonder what he did six weeks ago? The island laboratory is gone. Not a trace of it left. Nineteen people are dead and the laboratory is gone... _  
He decided to go out.   
  
———————   
  
He had to go through a lonely backdoor and up a relatively short path to get to the warehouse; Giovanni walked, well postured out of reflex. But slower, with his hands in his pockets. The weather was not entirely agreeable and there was a good wind going. Mewtwo made it rain once, he recalled, with timid thoughts following.  
He was nervous. He was nervous and he knew that it would get him nowhere...nervousness was unhealthy for him. It would hurt him in the long run simply because of his job. So he looked at his shoes and sighed again.  
Halfway there, the warehouse doors slammed open and stayed that way. Giovanni bit his lip, shrugged to noone and quickened his pace. He reached the cement patio and cautiously entered. The lights were on, and Mewtwo was sitting morosely on the edge of his bed. Giovanni stopped once inside, far from the pokemon.  
"I'm miserable," Mewtwo announced. The doors shut behind Giovanni. He jumped, very slightly. "It's your fault..."  
Giovanni said nothing.  
"Why am I so worthless to you?" Mewtwo stood and buried his cat-face in his hands. "...Why am I even here?" His voice raised involuntarily.  
"Mewtwo..."  
"You!...you..._you _don't even care for me." He pointed.  
"I—"  
"Don't. I know how you think. I'm as much...as" He lost his thoughts for a moment. "I can feel it!"  
Silence. It was pointless to argue.   
"Liar! God! God! Why am I even here?" Mewtwo was screaming now, venting. He sent a crate of books into the wall. "It's..!" He dropped to his knees and was silent. Giovanni spoke up tentatively.  
"Here with Team Rocket...like I've said..." There was no hope in his voice.  
"No. Not Team Rocket! That's all you ever are and I hate it—"  
"That's all you've got." Giovanni said flatly.  
"It's not true!" Mewtwo rose again, pacing wildly. "There's other places out there! I've seen them and you...and...this isn't all here is!" Breathing heavy, Mewtwo snapped his head up and looked at Giovanni. "I'll leave!"  
Giovanni was a rock. "Mewtwo," He said, but gently, "Leaving is one of the worst things you could do. Outside—"  
"Shut up!"  
"—people will destroy you. They'll be afraid of you. You—"  
"_Shut up_!"   
"You'll be miserable if you leave."  
"I'm miserable here!" He gasped suddenly, and reeled. "Oh, God..." The pokemon collapsed and began to sob. It sounded a bit strange, but Giovanni did nothing, just waited. Frankly, he was scared to shit over what Mewtwo was doing. He'd probably end up dead for it.  
Maybe a minute passed. Mewtwo's sobs grew into harsh shrieks, angry and frustrated. He pulled himself back up, slowly. Then, crying out, he threw his hands up and the ceiling cracked. Splinters of wood fell. Giovanni watched.  
Mewtwo's hands dropped.   
"I could kill you, and you have no respect for me," Mewtwo said hoarsely. "I could kill you in so many ways...I thought I was important somehow..." He heaved upwards again and the ceiling shifted and whined.   
Giovanni thought: _He's trying to throw the roof off. _  
"I've always been able to...I could have killed you, Giovanni..." Again. This time, there was a series of snapping noises, and the entire roof came off. There was a flash of some brilliant energy and shrapnel, wood and glass began to fall. Giovanni ducked down.  
"Look at me!" Mewtwo cried, holding himself a good three feet up, "Look! Why don't you—" Tears, now. Giovanni looked on almost blankly. That could have been the problem, he thought, but Mewtwo was so suddenly aggressive, it was hard to do anything but.  
Looking ill, Mewtwo glared down, still hating and with a short, strangled wail, he shot up into the sky. Quickly, he was gone. A support beam fell somewhere. The wind pressed. Giovanni stood, glass crunching underfoot.Mewtwo was gone. Where was he going? God only knew. Stunned into silence, Rocket's leader left.  
——————————   
Mewtwo did not think about where he was planning to go. His mind was absent. Fueled by anger and unhappiness, he sent himself flying for three, four miles over Kanto, crying out and cursing. He was so unwell that minutes after his departure, when he saw a stretch of rock beneath him, he decided to die there.   
Convinced—suddenly but without doubt—that his own life was worthless and he was not even meant to exist, he closed his eyes and, devastated, forced his mind to let go of the psychic power that held him up. He expected to fight the involuntary attempt to catch himself but it never came, and so he waited for the ground to come up at him and shatter every bone in his body. He would either die instantly or slowly, but it did not matter.  
The ground came. It hit him and after free-falling the stop was terribly traumatic, but he did not die. He rolled over himself, impossible contorting in his spine and neck, but neither broke. He skidded on the lava rock surface and then halted. The first thing he realized was: He wasn't dead. Pain slowly spread up his back, arms, legs. After a quiet moment—his mind had cleared some—he sat up, expecting a fractured limb.   
Only, he was fine. Save the abrasions. He forced them to stop bleeding and spent a good long time catching his breath. Water was nearby—he could hear it—but he sensed no human life.  
Mewtwo recalled maps of Kanto from his long-ago studies. He could have been near Pewter City, maybe even on the trail to Mt. Moon. He doubted he was much high than sea-level.   
  
The reality of his situation sunk in, that now he was homeless and lost. Unless Team Rocket sent out a retrieval squad, which he doubted would happen. And if they did he would smite them.   
Where to go from here, though? Not back to Giovanni. No, even in sanity he despised that man. He had lied, and made the pokemon very indignant. So he was not going back there.  
  
He set off soaring again, this time, slower, above the clouds and with a clear head. He'd search for a place, then.  
Viridian Forest was first to come to his mind when he tried to think of secluded places, but he didn't want to be near there for obvious reasons. So he searched.  
  
Cerulean City proved to be the answer. Or the closest thing to it. Over the gentle lights of the town, a mile or two outside of it, past the river and the plains, was a reclusive hilly area—and there were no trainers there—and Mewtwo was so tired that he almost fell as he returned to the ground.  
He swayed slightly and began to walk through the knee-high grasses, blindly, in the dark. Occasionally he roused a nesting Pidgey, but the damage to their habitat was minimal.   
Across the rather docile creek, he found a crawl space in the hillside. It was small but void of human life, and he slipped inside, through a series of even smaller half-tunnels. In truth the place was a cavern, but Mewtwo hardly noticed the few indigenous pokemon. He wandered on his hands and knees, sometimes teleporting past too-small areas, until he came upon a vast, empty space. Zubat, hundreds of them, were at roost on the ceiling, but Mewtwo sent them flooding out with a half-hearted blast of Psychic.   
Drained physically and emotionally, he was asleep in very little time.  
  
———————–————   
Well...that was depressing.  
  
Wait...don't go...no...don't leave me! DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE MY MOMMY DID...


	7. An Auspicious End

Neon God

Author's Rant: I woke up this morning after another sleepless night, drank a gallon of orange kool-aid, sat myself down in front of the computer and then I remembered that Neon God existed...and I was like...well, I better update this thing. Fortunately, this is the end, and its just a short little scribble that pretty much leaves Mewtwo's life open from here on out. Thanks.

* * *

Mewtwo did not know what it was exactly that awoke him. Perhaps it was the terrible pain—perhaps he was only alerted by some change in the atmosphere. But in one instant he was staring into blackness.

Where was he? Why, the bowels of a cave somewhere, that was right. It took him several minutes to sit up. He generated his own light—a simple enough task—and observed his surroundings. A vast cavern. From when? Last night. Why? Giovanni.

Head throbbing and feeling sticky and unpleasant, Mewtwo managed to stand. He followed the sound of water out of desperate thirst, and found that a languid stream ran through his cavern, and back out, winding through the place. It might have been the same stream he saw last night—

(_Cerulean_?)

He searched out a dip in the rocky footing, kneeled with dreadful pain in his legs, lowered his head into the water and drank. It was good, sweet tasting, and he took it in great gulps. When he had no more breath he lifted up and watched the water go by...and a Goldeen with it. Mewtwo grinned oddly, and suddenly turned and was sick once. Water and bile spilled into the current. He coughed slightly, but was not overly bothered, protected by emotional numbness. After climbing back up, he laid himself down and expected he would sleep again—and maybe he did. But if he did, it was very fleeting.

He was looking at the ceiling of the cavern; the sky, a blue-black thing that was almost moving. The walls seemed to disappear. The feeling he had was a lofty one, very suddenly and inexplicably.

He sat up. He was on a spit of land in the midst of—of nothing. What was this? A dream? No. It did not have a dream-like quality, not at all. He looked about, turned and checked behind him in growing panic but saw nothing stretching on forever.

When he turned back around, there was something in front of him. It was very cat-like, no more than half of his own height. Its fur was a very dusty pink; the eyes were shockingly blue. The face was sharp, wily, the hips were big and fat and splayed as the creature was sitting in midair. It had a long, thin tail. Mewtwo recognized the creature from vague studies and discussions that seemed far in the past, the reverend God. Mew. There was a very significant silence between the two of them.

Not possible. Mew was extinct. He waited. As if on cue, a voice flooded into his mind, telepathy:

"I am Mew."

This information, on top of everything else, overflowed Mewtwo's emotions. When he found his voice he leaned forward very cautiously and said: "Where did you come from? I thought you were extinct."

"I am the last surviving of my kind simply because the world no longer needs me."

Mewtwo nodded. He was nervous. There was a question he had been pondering since he had first read of Mew. He said: "Are you God?"

Mew tittered. It sounded like many voices at once. "If there is such a thing, I am far from it."

Silence. Mewtwo shifted. "...Why are you here?"

"I'm here because I know of your sadness. I'm worried about you."

Mewtwo paused. Very suddenly, he felt hopeless.

"...Why are you afraid of me?" Mew said.

Mewtwo uttered something messily.

"...I do not have the power to hurt you. You are my superior in every way. You could kill me now and be rid of me."

"I could not."

"Well."

Mewtwo looked away. Mew's presence filled him with distress. The creature continued.

"Giovanni was an evil person. It was only a matter of time before he betrayed you."

"Giovanni was notevil," Mewtwo stated. Perhaps he had more hatred for this Mew than for his master. "He was unpleasant, shrewd, but not evil. No."

"He was."

Silence.

"Are you real?"

"Yes. I am only mythical to you because I no longer have influence in this world."

"I'm you." Mewtwo said dreamily.

"You are yourself, Mewtwo." Mew sensed his sorrow. "And you were born of an ancestor of mine, not me. But you should ignore your origins. I have more important matter to discuss."

"And that is?"

"You can have order again if you return to either species. Living between the two will destroy you."

"This is a fine place for me."

"It is possible, actually. Giovanni said otherwise but I assure you it would be very easy to find your place."

"Go away." Mewtwo said bitterly. Mew ignored him.

"I only want the best for you, Mewtwo. I can feel your suffering and I want it to end."

"Please, go away."

"Then perhaps I will see you again."

Mewtwo looked up. Mew was gone, and he was back in the cavern. Immediately he questioned the reality of things.

It seemed a terrible beginning, but at least he was free to enjoy things as they were.

* * *

The End.

Wasn't that awful? Jeeze, I really tried to do something different...anyway, thanks to all you wonderful people who reviewed this and stuff. I wuv yoo. I really do. Time to cook up another crazy adventure, even though this itself is proof I shouldn't. Have fun. Blessings.


End file.
